


Sherlock and The Case of Finding Love

by Squeakers19



Series: Sherlock Holmes Love and Relationships (Not just Johnlock) [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 13:19:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2774465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squeakers19/pseuds/Squeakers19
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John love each other but neither are brave enough to say it. While on a case, John is shot. Will this be a wake up call for them? Will John even survive? If he does, what will become of their relationship?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlock and The Case of Finding Love

**Author's Note:**

> First fanfiction i decided to post. i hope you like it! i also have this work posted on fanfiction.net under the title 'Sherlock Holmes and The Case of Finding Love'. Hopefully this will be the first of a series.

The dynamic duo was at it again.

It all started one lazy, and boring in Sherlock's opinion, day at 221b Baker's Street. John was updating his blog after just solving their previous case about a serial murderer who killed their victims with lamp cords. Sherlock, the lanky consulting detective, was sprawled on the couch like usual after a case. He was dressed in his silk pajama bottoms and his blue robe. His pale, and surprisingly, toned chest was bare and John unwillingly licked his lips at the sight. You see, Dr. John Watson was utterly and somehow unbelievingly in love with Sherlock bloody Holmes, the almost insufferable man he had ever meant. Not even his past Army companions, who some he absolutely hated, was like this. The man was rude, arrogant, an arse for sure, mechanic and almost non-human but yet, John fell for him and fell hard. Hard enough that he followed the man into danger right off and shot a man for him. Of course, that man would have likely killed Sherlock, but hey, John wasn't going to take that chance.

Unknowingly, Sherlock Holmes, the man who would be described as a robot or a freak (by Sergeant Donavon, of course), was in love with the former soldier and doctor. John never ceased to amaze Sherlock and he was confused about his feelings towards the man. I mean, not that John being a man was the problem because Sherlock was 100% gay. He had had previous lovers no matter what others might think. No, the problem was that John was most certainly straight considering how many girlfriends he's gotten since he moved into the flat. And whenever someone asked if they were a couple, John always said he wasn't gay.

Anyway, Sherlock was in his 'Mind Palace' sorting through the room he reserved for everything John. The concern, the friendship, everything John had ever said to him (bad and good because one doesn't know when this information could be useful), and every wound John had patched for Sherlock, and saving his life almost every time. Right now, he was looking at the file of the feelings currently unknown to him pertaining to his doctor.

'Did I just…? Well, he is my doctor, really.' Sherlock thought.

While he sorted through the feelings, John was glancing ever so often at his flat mate. He could see the consulting detective working through thoughts as if they were files in a cabinet. John thought it was amazing how he could just delete things from his mind, like the Solar System, and store others away, like the Periodic Table.

Both men were brought out of everything when Sherlock's phone rang. The lanky man quickly grabbed and answered it. When John saw Sherlock's eyes brighten, he knew it was Lastrade with a case. The next minute, Sherlock jumped up and ran to his bedroom. A few minutes later, he was out and fully dressed and grabbing his scarf and long coat.

"Come, John! We have a case!" Sherlock shouted excitedly.

John suppressed a groan. Seriously, they had just finished one (John looked at his watch and suppressed another groan) only 2 hours ago and it had take almost 2 days! The detective seemed to be running on pure fumes the whole time and John was surviving on coffee and tea currently. Oh, and a few pieces of biscuits here and there. John leaped to his feet and was glad he hadn't bothered to change into his pajamas once they got home. He followed Sherlock out, shouting a goodbye to Mrs. Hudson, and got into the cab Sherlock waved down. Sherlock gave the cabbie an address and John leaned back forcing himself to watch the blur of London pass outside.

"So, you going to tell me about this case?" John asks.

"A murder inside a locked room! We best hope Anderson is not there because he'll mess the crime scene up with his stupidity." Sherlock says eyes shining in the growing darkness. Those eyes never seemed to dim, in John's opinion.

Also, he never knew how Sherlock could be oblivious to John's feelings towards him. I mean, he was quick to discover Greg Lastrade's feelings towards his own brother, Mycroft Holmes, and now those two were engaged to be married at the end of the month. Sherlock hated to see his brother happy like that but John couldn't be happier for Lastrade. Once the cab stopped, John noticed they were in West London where most shady things happened. John paid the cabbie once Sherlock shot out like a bullet. John followed him more slowly since his shoulder was aching and so was his leg. Sherlock rushed past Donavon and, unsurprisingly, and hated, Anderson.

"Hey, freak." Donavon sneers.

"I see you and Anderson spent the night together once again. Really, Donavon? He's a total moron when it comes to his job. Even someone as simple minded as you could find someone with more intelligence. Really, anyone with a middle school diploma would be smarter. Do try and not waste your time." Sherlock says matter-of-factly.

"And how do you know that? I will have you know I am very capable at my job!" Anderson growls standing straight and trying to tower over Sherlock.

"Really, Anderson? I will not have my superior mind be intimidated by anyone, let alone you, of all people." Sherlock says in an off-handed manner.

"Sherlock." John says warningly as he walks up to the 3.

"Yes, John?" Sherlock asks innocently.

"Don't you have a body to look at?" John asks narrowing his eyes at the attractive detective. He crossed his arms. Sherlock looked at him for a second, taking in every detail, and realizing John was most likely tired and only came to this scene for him. He was surprised his friend would do this but he wasn't the only one with the love of danger. Plus, he was glad John was there.

"I believe, John, that we have a body to examine. I do value your opinion, you know. Even if it is wrong most of the time." Sherlock says.

Donavon and Anderson jaws dropped. They never would have never suspected that Sherlock, the freak, would value anyone's opinion but his own. The last 5 years, he never wanted anyone's opinion. Sherlock then turned, his coat flapping, and strode to Lestrade. John followed him without preamble.

"Sherlock, John." DI Greg Lestrade greeted them.

"Gavin." Sherlock says scanning the front of the building.

"It's Greg for the thousandth time, Sherlock. I mean, you could make an effort to remember it since in a month, I will be your brother-in-law." Lestrade says tiredly. Sherlock huffed in annoyance. He went straight into the building.

"So, how's the wedding planning coming along?" John asks.

"Lovely. Just waiting on the day to arrive." Lestrade says getting this blissful look on his face.

"Good luck with marrying Mycroft, Greg. Living with a Holmes is certainly not the easiest of experiences. So, who is taking whose last name?" John asks. John then stops a tech and takes a look at the pictures she had captured of the victim. White. Mid 20's. Death ruled as strangulation. Ordinary besides the bruises on her neck. Some of the bruises were of an intimate manner, John noted.

"Her name is Susan Greene." He heard the tech say. He nodded and gave back the photos.

"Mycroft actually wants to take mine since I'm older. He also said it was a name to someone distinguished when I said it wasn't good enough name for someone as powerful as he is. Then we decided I'll take his. I rather have his. You'll be remembered being a Holmes." Lestrade says.

"He is right, I suppose. And I will admit Greg Holmes has a certain ring to it." John says.

"We decided to keep the Lestrade part of my name. I'm dropping my middle name. I'll be Detective Inspector Holmes and Mycroft absolutely loved the sound of it. He loves that I want his name." Lestrade says smiling softly thinking of Mycroft.

"That is sweet." John said. He was a bit surprised at himself because Mycroft was not sweet in anyway but he seemed to be perfect for his friend. He studied his surroundings for about 10 minutes waiting for Sherlock to finish his deductions and what-not.

"John! I need your gun!" Sherlock shouts exiting the building.

"Whatever for?" John asks his eyebrow raising.

"I do believe our killer is still in the facility and I had, unfortunately, left my own gun at the flat." Sherlock says a bit irritated. John sighed and handed over his gun, which was in the waistband of his pants against his lower back. Sherlock took it and took off.

"How do you put up with him, John?" Donavon asks disbelievingly coming up to the Detective Inspector and John.

"With practice and an unloaded gun." John says a bit jokingly. It should have made him feel guilty because they were at a crime scene but he found himself becoming a bit like Sherlock and not practically caring in that aspect.

"I'm amazed how you haven't managed to shoot him yet." Anderson says.

"Me, too." John says.

John starts walking the way Sherlock went. About a yard away from the scene, John heard a shot. He jumped and had sudden flashbacks of Afghanistan. He shook them away and sprinted towards the shot. He heard the sounds of Lestrade and some officers running behind him and also some scuffling in front of him.

"Let go of me, ruffian!"

Sherlock. That stupid, unbearable man was in a fight. Most likely with a man who just killed a woman without leaving a trace. John's leg burned but he ignored it. He turned down an ally and saw the unmistakable form of the man he fell in love with fighting someone twice his size and losing, as it seemed. Not regarding his own safety, John ran and barreled into the man. It didn't do much considering John was 5'7 when standing straight. The man pushed Sherlock to the ground and then proceeded to hit John square in the jaw. His head whipped to the side and John could taste the metallic in his mouth and the sting of the hit.

"Hands off my John!" Sherlock shouted angrily.

John shook away the daze and got up (when did he fall?) ready to fight for his friend's life. Before he could, strong hands held onto him and John watched in horror as the man held Sherlock around the neck with John's own gun pressed tightly against his temple. Lestrade raised his weapon, as did Donavon and the other officers.

"Let him go and make this easier on you." Lestrade said.

John looked into Sherlock's calculating eyes and shook his head slightly, dismissing any crazy, suicidal idea the man had.

"You'll send me to prison either way! Whether or not I kill him!" The man shouted.

He almost sounded distraught.

'This is not good. Must calm him down in case he does something rash.' John thinks.

John quickly starts to examine the man hiding behind his human shield. Said shield seemed calm as ever and it made John think Sherlock was insane. He slapped himself mentally for getting distracted.

"The woman you killed was your lover. You loved her and wanted her to leave her husband, right?" John found himself asking. He could feel Lastrade cast a what- are -you- thinking look his way. Usually, those looks were reserved for Sherlock. Said man looked at John with…pride? John raised his eyebrow and looked at Sherlock grinning.

"I…how did you know? She told you, didn't she?" The man shouted. His grip on both Sherlock and the gun tightened. The grin slipped from Sherlock's face as he started to struggle to draw in the necessary oxygen. He clawed at the strong arm holding him but the man didn't even flinch.

"No, she didn't tell me anything. Your person did." John said looking at Sherlock again. His deep blue-grey eyes were dimming. Breathing was becoming harder for the detective. His legs kicked out hitting emptiness. His nails dug into thick arms and clawing for his freedom.

"Tell me how!" The man demanded.

His voice was straining with rising anger. Sherlock's legs was slowing down to just a twitching. His fingers loosened their hold on thick arms.

"Release my friend and let him breathe and I will." John says attempting to negotiate. He even used his Captain's voice conveying all his focus on its commanding tone. He instantly became Captain Watson once more. The man then relaxed his arm just enough. Sherlock drew in deep breathes.

"Thanks, John." Sherlock croaks. He then coughs trying to clear his now aching throat. He looked up through his long lashes to see John, no, Captain Watson staring at him, stiff and straight, the soldier in him resurfacing after all this time. His posture suggested he was calm and in control but his eyes revealed he was frightened. Sherlock cocked his head and that seemed like a bad move because the gun was moved to his neck, a clear warning not to move.

"Tell me how you know." The man practically pleaded.

'Mood swings.' John noted in his head. Now, time to put his deduction skills to the test and hope for Sherlock's sake, he's learned something from him in the past 3 years living and solving crime together.

"Just below your jaw is a lip print. The print is the same shade of lipstick as the shade the victim was wearing. There is also a love bite on your neck and it's quite recent. Possibly in the last few hours due to its coloration. She also had them meaning you two were about to get intimate." He felt the heat rise in his face but continued on. Lastrade and the others watched both John and Sherlock's captor intently. "Then you brought up her leaving her husband for you because you loved her and was getting tired of sneaking around with each other. She got angry then, no doubt. She probably said hurtful things towards you and you got angry. Next, you had your hands around her throat and she was gone. You didn't mean to kill her because you stayed close even though you knew police would arrive. I'll even bet that you are the one who called the crime in." John says with more confidence than he felt.

The man's face went sad and tears came to his eyes but his hold on Sherlock did not relax.

"She said she didn't love me." The man said almost inaudibly.

John took a small step forward and the man pushed the barrel of John's gun into Sherlock throat causing the detective to wince the tiniest bit.

"Stay back or he dies." The man warned.

"You don't want to kill him. He did nothing to you or your lover." John said soothingly.

"John…" Lastrade whispered warningly behind him. John ignored him because he was focused on the man holding Sherlock. The detective himself was starting to let his panic show through is usual uncaring mask expression.

"He…he could be her husband for all I know!" The man shouted shoving the gun harder.

Sherlock winced harder this time and shut his eyes and opened them again. He stared straight at John, pleading with those damn irresistible eyes.

"He can't be." John said trying to think of something else to say. His own panic was starting to rise and he tried to keep it at bay with the rising bile in his throat. "Her husband's name was what?" John asked still thinking.

"John." The man says staring at John with realization. John certainly didn't like the look but he would play along if Sherlock would live through this.

"And that's my name. Now, be reasonable and let my friend go." John says taking another small step forward.

"No. Trade you for him." The man said angry again.

Everyone froze, including Sherlock. The detective's eyes filled with unhidden fear which caused Donavon to nearly drop her gun in shock. Lastrade eyes widened but he manages to hide his shock for the most part. Anderson watches nervously from behind Donavon.

"Ok." John said after a few seconds of tense silence.

"John, don't. Please, don't." Sherlock says, almost pleading. Another shock for those present.

"Shut it." The man growls.

"Listen to him, Sherlock. He wants Susan's husband and I'm willing to give him just that. Now, I will slowly walk towards you and you'll release him. Then, you can take me." John says walking forward slowly. Sherlock's eyes locks with John's. Sherlock sees the fear, nervousness, fondness, love…what!? Fondness and love? Did John love him like he loved John? His questions went unanswered as John held his hands above his head and walked to him and the ruffian, as Sherlock called him.

'John, turn back. Don't do this! Please, I can't see you hurt.' Sherlock thinks.

He feels the barrel placed under his chin and his head was forced up where he met his captor's unfocused, angry eyes. Sherlock realized he must have said that out loud. He knew he did when he heard Donavon gasp and Anderson mutter 'Christ'.

"Sherlock, you'll be ok. Once this is done, you can leave with Lastrade, Anderson, and Donavon." John says continuing his advancement. And _be safe_ lingered in the tension filled air.

Sherlock tries to look at John but the gun is holding his head up. What seemed like an eternity later, John was about a foot in front of them? The gun was lowered but stayed at his neck. He finally locked eyes with John again. What he seen terrified him the most in his years as a consulting detective. John was rigid with tension ready to break. His eyes were sad and yet filled with determination. His soldier self was standing stock still and at attention with his arms raised awaiting a command. Sherlock could see John working things in his head and realized that John expected not to make this out alive but he would if the good doctor could help it.

"Turn around with your hands behind your back." The man commanded.

John complied and took this chance to look at the officers before him. Lastrade was more or less keeping it together. Donavon still had shock written all over her face, John noted Anderson in the background sitting on the ground as if the shock of Sherlock being human knocked him over. The other officers, some knowing Sherlock before John came into his life, had shock on them as well. Others just looked confused or scared.

"What now?" John asks. He heard whispers behind him but couldn't tell what was being said.

"N-no." Sherlock says nervously.

"Do it or I'll kill him." The man growls. John stiffens. Sherlock stays silent. "Cuff HIM." The man says angrier than before.

John's thought about fighting for a moment before he felt the cool metal against his wrists. He heard the snaps of them being shut and any thought of fighting was gone from his mind. Still, he gave them a tug. John also saw Lestrade discreetly looking at his empty cuff holster and cursing silently.

"Good. Now step away from him and to the officers' easy like or I'll kill John now." The man says.

John doesn't have to see Sherlock to know he hesitated. The next thing he knew, Sherlock was on the ground grunting in pain and John was roughly pulled backwards. He feels the man's chest against his back, effectively pinning his handcuffed hands. The gun, his gun, was placed against his head. He willed himself to stay still as he did in war. This certainly wouldn't be the first time a firearm was pointed at him and hopefully, this wouldn't be the last. Sherlock looked up with those damn eyes at John and the doctor could have sworn that they glistened with unwelcomed tears. It was a weird sight to see but John felt privileged to see Sherlock so…human. He was grateful to see it even if it was his last day seeing the attractive man. John allowed himself to study Sherlock now that he was out of harm's way. His inky curls were blown back off his face from the running he did. His cheek bones were high and beautiful as usual and his eyes glowing. It seemed like his pale features were glowing like a beacon in the dark ally. He also noticed the forming bruise on Sherlock's left cheek and felt himself get oh so very angry. He took deep breathes to keep himself calm.

"Scared, John?" His captor sneers behind him.

"No. I was in war. This does not frighten me." John says coldly. Sherlock, Lestrade, and Donavon stare at John mouths open. John always sounded gentle and calm, even with Sherlock antics or Mycroft kidnapping him to check up on his little brother. Even when Lestrade would wake them up at 3 in the morning and dealing with Donavon's name calling and Anderson's stupidity.

"Your friends seem to be disagreeing with that." The man says grabbing John's hair and tilting his head so he would look straight at the officers and Sherlock, who at some point crawled over the Lestrade while he was lost in his thoughts, and was now being held back by him.

"They have their opinions and I have mine." John said his voice clipped and cold as ice. Sherlock realized this must have been Captain Watson talking not John. His John would never sound like that or be calm in this situation.

'Or would he? John is full of surprises.' Sherlock thinks looking at John and his calm demeanor.

"How do you wish to die, John? You want to die in front of all of them? Maybe I should take you somewhere quiet and kill you? Hmm, decisions." The man says chuckling gleefully.

"Kill me however you wish but as soon as that trigger is pulled, you're good as dead. Just like a soldier on the battle field." John says in the same cold tone. John then locks his eyes with Sherlock's and they warm somewhat. He looks like a lost, frightened child left behind by their parent in a store. In Sherlock's years, he never felt so useless and afraid for another human being. 'i.love .You.' John mouths. He watches as Sherlock's eyes widen dramatically. Lestrade noticed the exchanged and held Sherlock tighter as he tried to run at the man. The man chuckled darkly.

"Not the only one cheating now am I?" The man asks gleeful again.

John then smiles for the first time that night. But it's cold and mirthless and doesn't reach his eyes. It's more like pulling back of the lips. Maybe someone would consider it a twisted snarl of sorts.

"You are because while my name may be John, it's not John Greene, you simpleton. I am Captain John Hamish Watson. I happen to be an ex-soldier and an army doctor, and a current doctor." John says. He feels the man stiffen behind him.

"You lie!" The man shouts shoving the gun hard into his temple. It was John's turn to stiffen.

"My I.D is in my pocket if you wish to see for yourself." John says trying to remain calm. Captain Watson disappeared leaving behind the John everyone knew. One that was quite frightened. He feels the man reach down to his back pocket and shudders at the man hand on his arse but he did suggest it. Sherlock, at this point, was fuming in Lastrade's hold. He watched that hand moved behind John and down to an area he himself wanted to touch. He growled and struggled against the stronger DI. John felt the hand go in the pocket. Then he made his move. He spun around and head butted the man in the chin due to his height. The man grunted and the gun went off. It hit the wall near Donavon. She ducked out of the way. Sherlock ran at the man due to Lestrade releasing him in surprise. Before he made it far, the man had the gun up and pointing at Sherlock. John was against the wall having being unexpectedly being shoved aside roughly. Time seemed to slow down for John. The trigger was pulled and he went into action. He ran between the bullet and Sherlock. The force of it hit him hard enough to knock him to his knees. The bullet pierced his side and most likely nicked his lung, or worse. His breathing became uneven and painful. He fell to his side.

"JOHN!" Lestrade and Sherlock shouted at the same time.

Another gunshot and the man went down. John heard his gun slide away but didn't care. The pain in his side was burning his entire body. His lungs were aflame and he couldn't draw in oxygen. His vision became fuzzy and cleared again.

"John, you idiot! Why did you do that?" He heard Sherlock yell frantically. He sounded frightened. He felt the cuffs being removed. John rolled on his back and screamed in fresh pain. He placed his hand on the wound and flinched but kept it there.

"Sherlock…lung hit…going to…bleed out." John gasped painfully. He could feel his heart slow down ever so slowly as the blood seeped out of his body. Lestrade ran over and kneeled beside John along with Sherlock. Donavon called for paramedics while another officer went over to their dead perp. John and Lestrade saw Sherlock and he was shaking his head and…crying. He took off his favorite scarf and placed it on the wound with his own hands over it. John raised a shaky hand and stroked Sherlock's pale, wet cheek lovingly. He wiped the tears away from the detective's bruised face.

"Shh…it'll be…alright…I'm not…important." John whispered.

"Don't ever say that!" Sherlock snapped angrily. Lestrade, Donavon (who walked over with Anderson), snapped their heads up.

"I'm not." John said continuing his stroking, which was slowing as his breath was harder to catch. He vision swam in and out of focus.

"You are to me! You're the most important person in my life, John! I…I…I LOVE YOU, YOU IDIOT OF A DOCTOR!" Sherlock shouts through his rapidly falling tears. Donavon and Anderson stare shocked. Lestrade mutters 'About time' sadly.

"Sounds like…a proposal." John whispers. He feels his heart beating slower and his lungs shutting down. Dark spots danced at the edges of his eyes and his lids were becoming heavier by the second. He blinked trying to clear his vision.

"If that what it takes to keep you with me then consider it one." Sherlock sobs.

"I…would love to…but…" John says.

"Not buts, love. Once you're better, we'll get married. After Mycroft's and Greg's, of course." Sherlock says trying to control the waterfall coming from his eyes. He quickly pulls out a chain from around his neck. On it was a simple gold band with his initials engraved on it that John knew once belonged to Sherlock's and Mycroft's father. Sherlock told him once that his father had his initials put on it because he knew Mycroft wouldn't take it. Sherlock ripped it free from the chain and placed it on John's left hand ring finger. It fit perfectly.

"This is official, John! You cannot die now! I can't be left alone with Mycroft and Greg and Sally and Anderson without you! I would be lost without my blogger!" Sherlock shouts.

"You and Mycroft…need to…get along. You…need each other." John says coughing. John then returns to stroking Sherlock's cheek with the ring shining in the dark.

"Consider it done, my dearest John." Sherlock says gently and lovingly. Tears still slid from his eyes.

"John, you listen to me. You are important. You're my friend and you keep Sherlock from causing too much damage." Lestrade says. John chuckles weakly. A thin trail of blood trails from the corner of his mouth. He goes into a coughing fit and sprays blood all over Sherlock's and Lestrade's faces. Once he subsides, they could hear the sirens.

"Please, John, don't you leave me. How else will I stand Anderson and his idiocy?" Sherlock sobs. His bottom lip trembles and new tears threaten to fall.

"Yeah. And what about me calling him a 'freak'? Someone has to stand up for him. That person has always been you." Donavon says crying now. Even Anderson was nodding in agreement and tearing up himself. Lestrade was already fully crying and had been since he saw John fall.

"Sherlock…I love…you…remember…that." John whispers as his hand falls limply to the ground. The ring clinks against the cold ground. It sounded like an explosion in Sherlock's ears. John's eyes close and his breathing stops.

"John! JOHN! NO! John, you can't leave me!" Sherlock wails. He feels for a pulse but it's not there. Paramedics rush down the alley and Lestrade and Anderson grab Sherlock when he tries to get back to John.

"John, you can't die on me!" Sherlock shouts his voice cracking.

"Shock him." One of the paramedics says. The get the machine and place it on John's chest.

"Clear!" The same medic shouts. John's body convulses but the heart monitor stays straight.

"Again! Clear!" The medic shouts again. His body convulses again. Still flat lined.

"Once more!" The medic shouts. Donavon, Lestrade, Anderson and Sherlock watch in horror as the line makes no sign of movement.

"Time of death, 11:20 PM." The medic says looking at his watch.

"NO!" Sherlock shouts trying to get out of Anderson's and Lestrade's hold. Everyone stares in horror as John, the man who could stand Sherlock bloody Holmes, lay limp and lifeless in the cold, dark alley surrounded by his own blood. And as if the weather knew of this, it started to rain and adds to the misery. The rough rain and Sherlock's wails of heartbreak was the only things they could hear for a minute.

"Please…try again!" Sherlock begs.

"He's gone, Sherlock…" Lestrade whispers in disbelief.

"PLEASE!" Sherlock wails desperately. The paramedics take pity on him and do it again.

Suddenly the monitor slowly starts to beep.

"We have a pulse! We need to get him to the hospital stat!" The paramedic calling his death shouted. They load him onto a stretcher and rush him to the ambulance. Sherlock follows.

"I can't let you ride with him." The medic says.

"Please, he's my fiancé. I have to be with him!" Sherlock pleads brokenly. The medic nods and Sherlock gets in and watch as the medics work on stabilizing John. Lastrade, Donavon, and Anderson watch as the ambulance pulls away and heads to Bart's Hospital. The 3 seemed in a daze.

"You two," Lestrade says addressing Donavon and Anderson, "Maintain the scene. I need to call Mycroft and head to the hospital." He says. The two nod mutely.

"Keep us updated." Donavon says. Lestrade nods and hails a cab.

"To Bart's Hospital and on the double. Police business." Lestrade says flashing his badge.

He abusing his power here but he didn't have time to bother paying a damn cabbie when one of his closest friends could be dying or already dead. He then pulled out his phone and dialed the one number he knew by heart.

"Gregory, to what do I owe the pleasure?" A smooth voice belonging to one and only Mycroft Holmes asks sweetly.

Lestrade always loved that tone from his lover but now, it didn't help the matter at hand.

"Mycroft, Sherlock needs you right now." Lestrade says. His voice cracks as tears escape his eyes again.

"What has my dearest brother done this time?" Mycroft asks bored.

"It's not him. It's John. He was shot and Sherlock is a mess. John literally died in front of him before being revived! He died, Myc! For over a damn minute! John bloody died!" Lestrade says letting his voice crack completely as sobs raked his body.

"What!? Oh dear. I'm on my way. Gregory, dearest, take deep breathes. You need to be strong for Sherlock until I arrive." Mycroft says gently and caring.

That's one side very few people get to see of the Iceman.

"O-ok." Lestrade says. The phone goes dead and he focuses on his breathing until he was calm enough.

Soon, the cab pulled in front of the hospital. Lestrade jumped out and practically ran into the E.R where he spotted Sherlock instantly. He looked withdrawn, paler than usual, and looked like he aged 10 years. He went right over to him and sat beside him.

"Sherlock?" Lestrade said.

"A doctor said most likely John won't survive the surgery." Sherlock whispered heartbrokenly.

His voice was so broken that it broke Lestrade's own heart. He hoped to God that John would pull through. Not just for him but for Sherlock because he would truly be lost without his blogger.

"John is always one to beat the odds, Sherlock." Lestrade says.

"What if he doesn't? What then? I'll be alone and heartbroken with what I lost just realizing what I had in the first place." Sherlock says crying again.

"I have faith that John will not leave you alone, brother dear." Lestrade and Sherlock look up to see Mycroft.

At the same time, it wasn't Mycroft. His suit was rumpled; his red hair whipped every which way by the outside wind, his whole person soaked to the bone from the rain, and his eyes were full of worry. And the umbrella he never was without was nowhere on his person. He went over to Sherlock and pulled him to his feet. Sherlock instantly threw his long arms around his still taller brother and cried on his suit.

"Let it out, Sherly. I've got you. You're not alone." Mycroft whispers soothingly into his sobbing brother's ear. He rubbed comforting circles on his little brother's back. Lastrade watched as Sherlock broke down into the arms of the man he once thought as the Iceman. Sherlock, between gasps of breathe, realized how much he really needed his brother. Leave it to John to know this before him. Mycroft looked towards Lestrade with a small plea in his eyes.

'Oh, John' Sherlock thought crying harder than before.

His sobs got louder in Mycroft's shoulder. Sherlock made no attempt at controlling his emotions for once as he waited for news of his John. Lastrade got up and threw his arms around the two Holmes' brothers. He felt on of Sherlock's arms go around him and pull him closer. To make the embrace more comfortable, Mycroft wrapped his arm around Lestrade. Lestrade and Mycroft looked at each other momentarily and an understanding was passed between them. They had to be there for Sherlock, the usual rapid deducing, world's only consulting detective.

"Sherly, I'm here. Gregory's here. We got you, dear brother." Mycroft soothed. He took a hand and stroked his brother's soft, inky curls as the sobs raked his small frame. The thin frame of Sherlock shook more than Mycroft liked.

"Greg…" Sherlock choked out.

"I'm here, Sherlock." Lestrade whispered gently. The arm he had around the dark haired detective tightened ever so slightly.

"Myc." Sherlock choked again.

"I'm here, brother mine." Mycroft says gently.

"I…I need…to sit…I think." Sherlock whispers. His voice is hoarse and scratchy. He tries to catch his breath as Lastrade lets go of Sherlock. Mycroft let's go of Sherlock and sits on the double chair and helps Lestrade lower Sherlock in his lap.

'I haven't done this since we were children when his dog Red Beard died. I hope this helps now.' Mycroft thinks as he adjusts Sherlock so both of them would be comfortable.

Eyes were watching them with disgust and raised eyebrows and it made Lestrade angry. He turned and looked at the others in the room. Half the eyes looked away from him. "What are you staring at, huh? Something interesting watching as someone you know and love break down after watching the one they love die and be brought back!? And now all you had to do was waiting? Turn away, arse holes!" Lestrade growls angrily. The rest of the eyes shift and look elsewhere. "That's what I thought." He spat.

"Gregory." Lestrade turns to see Sherlock were fully in Mycroft's lap and holding onto his brother as if it was his only lifeline. His head was tucked in Mycroft's shoulder. Lestrade could see Sherlock shaking as he continued to sob. Mycroft held tightly to his brother. This is something else about the supposed Iceman: he cared for his little brother greatly no matter what others thought. Lestrade sat beside Mycroft.

About 30 minutes later, Mycroft was feeling stiff and needed to get up. Sherlock was silently crying now.

"Sherly, do you think you can move for me? I'm afraid I need to get up." Mycroft asked tilting Sherlock's head away from his shoulder. His eyes were red, puffy, and slightly swollen from all his crying. The bruise he sustained in the fight earlier stuck out on his almost sickly pale skin. Sherlock held tighter onto his brother. "Sherly, I need to get up. I'm sure Gregory will stay with you while I stretch. Would that be ok with you, brother dear?" Mycroft asked softly pushing a stray curl out of Sherlock's face. Sherlock glances over to Lestrade.

"I'll be here, Sherlock. I won't go anywhere." Lestrade promises. Sherlock looks at his brother again and slowly gets off of him. He scoots over to Lestrade, who gently pulls him closer, and buries his head in his chest. He sighs and Lestrade quickly feels a new wave of tears escape Sherlock's red, irritated eyes. Long, pale hands fist into his shirt tightly. Lestrade watches as Mycroft walks over the nurse station most likely asking about John. He then looks down at Sherlock. His bright blue eyes are blown wide as the tears come freely. His sobs are silent but his body quakes.

"Sherlock, I'm here for you." Lestrade whispers. He places a kiss on top of his head. Lestrade rubs his hand up and down Sherlock's back trying to show what comfort he could. To tell you the truth, Lestrade had always been protective of Sherlock. Ever since he found the kid nearly dead from a drug overdose years ago. The younger Holmes was like a weird little brother to him. He certainly cared for him like a brother would.

"You think too loud, Greg." Sherlock's voice makes Lestrade jump slightly. It's rough sounding now and it somewhat disturbs Lestrade.

"I'm sorry." Lestrade whispers.

He hugs the man closer to him and Sherlock once again buries his head into Lestrade's chest. A few minutes pass and Sherlock's head droops and his breathing leveled out. The fists loosen. Lestrade carefully lays him down where his head is resting on the DI's thigh. Lestrade leaned back and placed his hand on Sherlock's arm. A few more minutes past and Donavon shows up with Anderson on her heels.

"How is he?" Anderson asks nodding his head towards the sleeping Sherlock. If Lestrade didn't know any better, Anderson looked and sounded honestly concerned.

"Well, not so well." Lestrade says. He looks down and starts to rub Sherlock's arm as if to remind the sleeping man he wasn't alone.

"Have you heard anything about John?" Donavon asks.

"No but Mycroft went over to talk to someone." Lestrade says. He turns and sees Mycroft talking heatedly with a short, blonde nurse. She looked frightened as she talked to the elder Holmes brother.

"Has a doctor talked to you at all?" Anderson asks.

"No but one did tell Sherlock that John most likely wouldn't survive surgery." Lestrade said sadly. His gaze returned to Sherlock as he finally rested from his non-stop sobbing. If this was a different situation, he would believe he looked peaceful but that was not a possibility as they all sat and waited to hear news about John. After another hour and still no word, a woman ran in and went straight to the nearest nurse. Lestrade could have sworn he smelt alcohol on her as she passed them.

"I'm looking for John Watson. Where is he?" She asked frantically.

"I'm not at liberty to say, Miss…?"

"Harriet Watson. I am John's sister and I have a right to know about my brother!" She shouts. Sherlock stirs and shifts. He opens his eyes slowly. He blinks a few times trying to clear his blurry vision.

"Sherlock, go back to sleep." Lestrade says.

"What about John?" Sherlock asks groggily.

Lestrade looks up to search for Mycroft but instead meets the eyes of Harriet Watson and she looks pissed. She storms over to them.

"I should have known you were behind this, Mr. Holmes!" She shouts angrily.

Lestrade smells the alcohol more strongly now. Donavon gagged slightly and Anderson sat in the chair beside Lestrade stiffly.

"Harry." Sherlock said confused.

"Yes, it's me! I swear, you will be the death of my brother and then I will make sure you are sent to prison for the rest of your life!" Harry growls.

The other patients in the room turn and stare at them. Lestrade stiffens. Donavon narrows her eyes angrily at the woman and Anderson stands and strides over to the other side of Sherlock protectively. Donavon did the same thing. The two almost completely shields the distraught consulting detective.

"If he dies then I'll welcome prison with open arms." Sherlock says tiredly and broken.

"Or maybe the death sentence would be better! You wouldn't deserve to live if you killed John!" She snarls. Sherlock seems to shrink. Donavon takes an angry step forward.

"I suggest you to not speak to him like that, Miss Watson. He did not shoot your brother. You have reason to be angry at him." She said angrily.

"It doesn't matter if he didn't pull the trigger himself! He still dragged John to those crime scenes and into those dangerous situations!" Harry says.

This time, Anderson takes a step forward.

"John made his own choices. He could have chosen not to go with Sherlock, like he's done before. This time, John willingly risked his life to save Sherlock's. His choice and he knew the risk." He said.

"Then its Mike Stanford's fault for introducing John to Sherlock!" Harry shouts.

"No. John could have refused to meet Sherlock. He also could have decided not to rent the flat with him but he did. Also his choice." Lestrade says putting an arm around Sherlock's shoulder.

"Who are you and why do you care who I blame for John's death?" She asks angrily. Sherlock flinched violently against Lestrade. He curled up and leaned as far as he could into Lestrade. The on-lookers look sympathetically towards them.

"Friends." Donavon and Anderson say in unison.

"He's my brother-in-law." Lestrade says challenging the woman with his gaze. Sherlock grabs Lestrade's hand, that his ring Mycroft bought him was on, and Lastrade squeezes it.

"And, Miss Harriet Watson, I am Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock's elder brother. Now, I shall ask you kindly to stop harassing my troubled brother or I will have security escort you out." Mycroft say coming from behind her and sitting beside his brother, who almost instantly reattached himself to him.

"You cannot stop me from seeing my brother." Harry spat.

"Oh yes I can. You see, Sherlock is John's main contact. So are Gregory and I if he is not capable of making decisions concerning John's health. Since Sherlock is in shock, I am in charge and I can very well stop you from seeing John if I wish." Mycroft says matter-of-factly.

"Not if he dies!" Harry says.

"Oh, but he is not dead. He is undergoing major surgery from where he helped spare my baby brother's life. Once he recovers, which I am confident about, I will make sure he is rewarded for it." Mycroft says holding his brother against him tightly. Sherlock balled his fists in his brother's suit jacket. At this point, Mycroft's suit was ruined but he could care less.

"You can't do that. John would never deserve it! Just because he happened to be in a path of a bullet intended for you damn brother! I'll even go as far to say your brother put him in that position to get him shot purposely!" Harry hisses angrily.

At this, Sherlock snapped. He stood quickly, causing Mycroft to fall to the floor. Lestrade and Anderson helped him stand. The on-lookers turn away from the scene now. Anger radiated from Sherlock like shock waves and made Anderson and Donavon take a step back. Lestrade looked over to his fiancé worriedly but Mycroft was looking at his brother intensely and tense as a tightly coiled spring. Lestrade laced his fingers with Mycroft's tightly.

"How dare you insinuate such a thing! I may be a sociopath but I do care for people! John is the single most important thing in my life and I would not dare put him in harm's way on purpose! This may be hard for your alcoholic brain to consume but I love your brother with all my heart! Yes, I happen to have a heart which was frozen until I met John! He managed to break that ice and melt it the longer I knew him! I even faked my death to save him and the other people I care for! John helped me repair a relationship with my brother! I love that man and once he's better, I'm going to marry him! Now, get this through that damn alcoholic brain: GET. OUT! JOHN CERTAINLY DOESN'T NEED YOU AROUND!" Sherlock all but shouted.

"He does need me because I'm the only family he has!" Harry says offended.

"No, you are not. Mrs. Hudson, Greg Holmes," Surprised look from Lestrade, "Mycroft Holmes," Mycroft looked up in surprise; "Molly Hooper, Sally Donavon, and even Phillip Anderson are his family! We actually give a rat's arse what happens to him! You, on the other hand, only come around when you need something from him! Oh, I guess he really needs his alcoholic sister who can't keep a relationship with her wife because of drinking! Whatever would he do without you? Oh, that's right; he would be happy!" Sherlock shouts.

"You act like you know everything when in reality, you know absolutely nothing! You're not a 'sociopath' as you put. You're a psychopath who should be in a mental hospital wrapped up in a straight jacket! At this rate, you'll drag my brother down with you!" Harry spat. Lestrade had enough.

"Sherlock, sit down." He commands in the most serious tone he's ever used.

"Greg…" Sherlock starts.

"I said SIT. DOWN." Lestrade growls menacingly. Sherlock, for once, obeys the DI. He takes a seat by his brother and grabs his hand. Mycroft sits beside Sherlock. Everyone watches in shock and wonder, Mycroft in lust and desire, as Lestrade rounds on Harry standing straight with his hands clamped behind his back looking 10 years younger and a whole lot more fiery. "I suggest, Harry, that you go home and return when you're sober. Being drunk at a hospital is not winning any points on your behalf. Once sober, return and have a civil conversation with Sherlock with either I or my fiancé present. If not, I will arrest you for disturbing the peace and drinking on hospital grounds and won't allow you to visit John." He says in all seriousness.

"I wasn't even drinking here!" Harry says shocked.

"The alcohol smell on your person gives me reasonable doubt. Now, leave and that's an order from me, Detective Inspector Gregory Holmes." He said pitching his voice low and dangerous, which had Mycroft shifting in his seat hiding his inappropriate erection from anyone glancing his way. Plus Greg calling himself a Holmes made Mycroft harder.

"Make it obvious why don't you, Myc." Sherlock whispered laying his head on his brother's shoulder. Mycroft blushed and watched Lestrade. Harry huffed and stormed out. Sherlock seemed to deflate at that and slumped nearly boneless against his brother.

"You alright, Sherly?" Mycroft asked instantly concerned.

"Fine…" Sherlock mumbled. That night, Lestrade, Mycroft, and Sherlock stayed sitting in the waiting room until finally a doctor stepped out. None of them managed to sleep.

"Sherlock Holmes?" He asked. He instantly jumped from leaning on Lestrade and quickly went over to the doctor.

"I'm Sherlock. How is John?" Sherlock asked almost too afraid for the answer.

"Well, the surgery was long and difficult. You see, his right lung was hit and we had to repair it, which in itself was hard. We lost him twice during the process but now he's stable and I expect him to make a full recovery. He will be required to spend 2 weeks here then 6 weeks at home with someone taking care of him and absolutely no working." The doctor said.

Sherlock sighed in utter relief and nearly started crying again from the sheer joy that John was alive and would recover.

"That's great news, doctor! Thank you!" Sherlock says happily.

"You may go see him if you like." The doctor says. "What about my brother and brother-in-law?" Sherlock asks. Honestly, he thought he wouldn't be able to handle going alone after all this time.

"Well, if you'll all be quiet as possible because Mr. Watson…"

"Doctor." Sherlock corrected.

"Right. Doctor Watson is resting. He's in room 213." The doctor said. He walks away.

Sherlock turns with a wide grin and happy tears sliding down his face.

"He's going to ok!" Sherlock says happily. Lestrade and Mycroft grin and each go to hug Sherlock.

"I told you John would beat the odds!" Lestrade says happily.

"The doctor said I could go see him if I want but I don't think I can alone. Would…would you two go with me?" Sherlock asked almost shyly.

"Of course, Sherly." Mycroft says softly. Sherlock turns and heads down the hall with Lestrade and Mycroft close behind. When they were to John's room, Sherlock reached for the door handle but then hesitated.

"Sherlock, it's ok. Myc and I are right here if you need us." Lestrade says gently patting his shoulder. Sherlock nods and opens the door. They step in and their eyes widen. John is lying on the uncomfortable hospital bed hooked up to an I.V and the heart monitor. His usually bright face was pale, almost white. He seemed to be sweating and shaking slightly. The ring on his finger stuck out against his skin.

"Oh, John…" Sherlock whispered sadly.

"Sherly, he'll be ok." Mycroft says. He grabs his brother's hand and squeezes it gently but doesn't release it. Sherlock holds it tight.

The three spends the next few nights waiting for John to wake. Lestrade and Mycroft had to leave and come back when they could since Lestrade was still the DI and Mycroft was part of the British Government. Sherlock stayed beside John the whole time trying to will the man he loved to wake so Sherlock could see his entrancing eyes meet his own. On the 4th day, Sherlock had his hand intertwined with John's loosely and was stroking John's hand with his thumb and lost in his Mind Palace. He was brought out of it instantly when he felt the hand beneath his tighten. Sherlock snapped his eyes to John in time to see them open slowly.

"Sher…lock?" He said his voice hoarse and cracking. Sherlock grabbed the glass of water on the side table and gently place the straw to John's dry lips. John drinks gratefully and Sherlock puts the glass back on the table.

"I'm here, John." Sherlock whispers bringing John's hand to his mouth and kissing it gently. He then leans up and brushes their lips together briefly.

"I…love you." John whispers sleepily.

"I love you, as well. Now, rest, love." Sherlock says. John falls back to sleep.

The next 8 weeks go by faster than Sherlock expected. The whole time, Sherlock stayed by John's side. He wouldn't take any cases and when Lestrade was at wits end, Sherlock would go over files in the flat so he could stay with John. Mycroft had Althea bring over food for them since Sherlock was taking care of John. In those weeks, Mycroft and Lestrade would come over and the Holmes brothers were more civilized and their relationship seemed to be repairing, all thanks to John. The couple even extended the wedding date so John would be able to attend. Sometime during then, Mycroft had asked his brother to be his best man at the wedding which Sherlock accepted with a little encouragement from John later.

Now, it was time for the wedding and Sherlock was standing at his brother's side smiling fondly (which he never thought he would because it was Mycroft) at his brother. Mycroft was glowing in the dimming sun staring at Lestrade. John was beside Lestrade being his best man. Sherlock flickered down to John's ring then his own because John insisted on getting him one. Their own wedding was a few months from now. Sherlock had blocked out the priests dulling voice and looked up in time to see Lestrade and Mycroft share the official sealment of their union.

"I now introduce Gregory and Mycroft Holmes." The priest says.

Lestrade grabs Mycroft's hand and they walk down the aisle happily both glowing now. Happiness seemed to radiate from the two. Later at the reception, Sherlock, being best man, shared some embarrassing stories of things he and Mycroft had done as children. Everyone, except Mycroft, had laughed. The evening went on and the chatter floated around the lovely venue. Sherlock weaved in and out and went straight to the happy couple. He pulled them both into a hug, pleasantly surprising them.

"I love you, Myc, Greg." Sherlock says letting them go.

"I love you, too, brother mine." Mycroft says softly.

"Me, too." Greg says smiling.

"Now, I do believe you two are to dance? I have written you a song on my violin if you don't mind me playing it." Sherlock says.

"Go right ahead, Sherly." Mycroft says.

Sherlock gets on stage and stats playing a sweet, long, loving song on the strings of his trusty violin. Sherlock smiles fondly at his brother and brother-in-law danced slowly with each other. They looked at each other with blissful, happy smiles as Sherlock played on. He played the beautiful notes for what seemed like an eternity plus more. John grinned at his future husband from the side. John was happy that Sherlock and Mycroft were mending the very fragile relationship they had since they were children. When Sherlock was finished, the guests clapped and there wasn't a dry eye in the room. Once quiet, Mycroft got onto the stage and pulled his brother into a hug.

"Thank you, brother mine." Mycroft said tearfully.

"You are most welcome, Myc." Sherlock says tearing up himself.

The crowd claps again, especially Mummy since they knew the boy's relationship was never ideal. Greg Lestrade Holmes and John Watson looked at their partners with love and admiration.

"Our Holmes' are something, aren't they?" John asks Lestrade.

"They sure are, John. They sure are." Lestrade says.

John and Sherlock dance after that with the band Mycroft hired played in the background. Mycroft and Greg cut their cake after dancing. John took pictures of the couple. After the reception, photographers took pictures of the grooms and best men. Mummy had pictures of them, Sherlock, and Mycroft taken. Mummy Homes wished her husband was there to join the pictures but he was on a 'trip'. He was just homophobic and the boys knew it. The whole reception and after was a very nice, happy thing. Gregory Holmes and Mycroft Holmes basked in their happiness surrounded by friends and family alike. Sherlock Holmes and John Watson held hands and smiled knowing they would be next in the married bliss.


End file.
